


The Fire Burns Brightest

by TheDarkRat



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, All Magic Comes With a Price, Clerics, F/F, F/M, Never Trust the Clerics, Rum's Not a Happy Camper, Shoulda Learned the First Time, body switching, spell gone wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkRat/pseuds/TheDarkRat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Sir Maurice is so desperate to get his daughter back from Rumplestiltskin that he turns to the clerics. But all magic comes with a price, can he pay it a second time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her fist banged against the rain slicked door.  
                “Archie!” she yelled over the thunder rumbling. “Open up!” The door swung open and warm, welcoming light poured through.  
                “Cole?!”  
                “She kicked me out, Archie.” Cole swept past her friend in the doorway and slumped into a couch. She heard the door close. “I think she means it, Arch, I screwed up.” She drew her knees to her chest.  
                “What happened?” Archie asked, taking an armchair.  
                “She’s mad. I can’t leave well enough alone. I pushed when I shoulda pulled.” Cole inwardly cursed as tears leaked from her eyes. “I got suspended at work today.”  
                “Because of your investigation?”  
                “Yeah, Chief found out. Wasn’t happy.” Cole rubbed her cheeks dry. “So, when I turned up home early, she knew. She didn’t want me sticking my nose in things. She knew it was trouble. Said I never listen to her, and maybe I don’t…But I had to, Archie. I had to.” She turned to face her friend. “Something’s up! They’re wrong!” She stood up suddenly and through her arms in the air, “They were not accidents. I don’t know who Chief’s covering for, but I gotta find out! Someone’ll get killed!” Her green eyes flashed in the fireplace light.  
                “But, Cole,” Archie spoke low and soothingly, “aren’t there people who do the investigations on arsons?”  
                “Yeah, but they’re the ones who said they were accidents.” Cole sighed. “If I tried to get them to take a second look, Chief’ll find out. Granted, he suspects something already.” She sat down heavily again, pulling a throw pillow into her lap. “Hence the suspension.”  
                “Why is this so important to you, Cole? Why do you feel the need to go against the rulings and investigate on your own?” He knew she’d been tilting at this windmill for a while, but he never understood why.  
                “Because if you set fires, people die.” She said flatly. The two were silent for a while, each staring at the fire in the grate. “It’s a horrible way to die, Archie.” Cole broke the silence. “The smoke gets into your lungs, gets you coughin’. You keep taking larger breaths, but all you get is more smoke and less oxygen. The particulates get into your eyes, your nose, your mouth. The heat makes your skin blister and finally burn black. You can feel every bit. Then if you’re close enough, when you breath, you breath it in; the oxygen in your lungs further fueling the fire. It scorches and you can’t even scream. Then as you die, your body curls in on itself, making a little ball of charred flesh.” Her face was slack and emotionless as she spoke, leaving Archie speechless. “They used it as torture in Europe during the Dark Ages. An example of ‘Live By Our Rules Or Else’. It’s one of the worst ways to kill a person.”

Archie stood up and went to the couch; he leaned down and got into Cole’s line of vision. “That’s a good reason, Cole. It’s good enough for me. It should be good enough for your Chief.” He gave her a hug. “And as for Ruby, spend the night here and talk to her in the morning. Tell her everything you told me. She’ll understand.”

Cole nodded mutely.  Archie got up to grab an extra blanket and pillow. They quietly said good night and Archie disappeared into his room down the hall. She snuggled under the blanket and tried to will her thoughts away from the past.


	2. Chapter 2

The clerics had arrived without any pomp or circumstance. They had just filed in quietly and stood to the side of the great hall while Sir Maurice conducted his business. It was eerie, how they stood so still, without a sound. It wasn’t long before the counselors were finished and dismissed, and one of the clerics moved to stand in front of his chair.

                “You sent for us?” His voice was soft, oily, like ink slowing staining a piece of cloth. His face was hidden by the low hood of his habit.   
                “Y-yes.” Sir Maurice stuttered as he took a breath. These monks had a reputation, but so did Rumplestiltskin. Surely, they’d be able to help him get his daughter back.   
                “Well?” The monk spoke again.  
                “My daughter, Belle, has been taken by the Dark One.” He felt his face pale. “She went to save our lands and people, but she’s not safe!” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “I need her to be safe.”   
                “She went as part of deal?” The oily voice seemed to fill the room.   
                “Yes.” Sir Maurice thought it was only his imagination that the room got cold.   
                “There is a way.” The monk pulled a scroll out of his sleeve. “It is difficult and the Dark One’s magic is powerful.” The monk strode closer until he was practically face to face with the Baron. “Are you willing to pay?”

Sir Maurice knew that he should ask what the price was, but all he could think of was the bright sparkle in those blue eyes.   
                “Yes.” 

That night, the monks had assembled in the keep’s basement. They brought with them hundreds of candles, white chalk and a large silver bowl. Some of them lit the candles that they had placed in a pattern unrecognizable to Maurice, while others sketched arcane symbols onto the stone floor. Their leader bent over a table with the silver bowl, the scroll and several of Belle’s belongings.

The chanting echoed, startling Maurice out of his reverie. He couldn’t understand the words, but felt them reverberate in his bones. He saw the leader cut his hand with a long white knife, and then splash some blood into the bowl. Next he read some of the scroll in a tongue that made Maurice’s hair stand on end. The candles flickered. One of Belle’s hair ribbons was thrown in and thunder clapped in the distance. Second thoughts crept through his mind, was this really the best choice?

More blood was dripped into the bowl while the monk continued to read and added strands of hair left in a comb. The contents of the bowl suddenly caught fire, it burned green. Was that supposed to happen? A breeze blew through the room, it smelled of a forest during a rain storm. The leader spoke louder and the breeze became a whirlwind, the candle flames surged together flowing the wind’s pattern. The cleric took a vial of clear liquid out of his robes and emptied its contents into the bowl. The ties to one of Belle’s dresses followed it. The ground beneath their feet heaved and shuddered, Maurice was thrown to the floor. The wind shrieked like a falcon, the flames in the bowl licked the ceiling, and the monk yelled the final incantation. With a rush all the light was extinguished, the world went silent and still.

                “Where is she?!” Maurice called out frantically in the dark.   
                 “The ritual was performed correctly.”   
                “Belle!” The Baron shouted, “Belle! I’m here! Papa’s here!” His voice cracked. No one answered. The monks relit several candles, there were scorch marks on the floor in the center of the room; but no Belle.  “Where is she!?” Maurice bellowed. His eyes flashed in anger and he grabbed the priest by the robes.   
                “I don’t know.” The monk mumbled, “But she will be safe and away from the Dark One’s clutches.”  The monk’s hood shifted and revealed a smile only fit for a snake. “Remember our bargain.”  

 


	3. Chapter 3

The fire raged inside the bookstore, hungrily devouring everything in its path. It roared loudly as it took the second floor, a woman’s scream echoed as the building collapsed.   
                “Mama!” Cole’s voice rang out against the inferno. She stood, transfixed across the street, dressed in only her pajamas. She clutched a stuffed lion to her chest as the fire engines began to arrive. She was too young to realize it was too late. “My mama’s in there!” She had yanked on the jacket of any firefighter that got near enough. The smell of burnt wood, of charred paper, of the water as it evaporated on the flames was burnt into her memory. So when she smelled straw she woke up with a surge of adrenaline.

It was dark. The fire in the grate must have burnt out. Cole went to roll off the couch, when she realized she wasn’t on a couch. She was on a pallet of straw.   
                “What the…” There was faint starlight streaming in from windows high above her. The room was made of stone with a wooden door at the end of it. Cole stood up but was overcome with a wave of dizziness. Her hand flew to her temple with a groan. Long tendrils of hair fell into view as she bowed her head.  “WHAT?!”

Cole looked at the hair now held in hand. It was long, down past her shoulder blades; it was brown, slightly curly and most certainly not hers. That’s when she noticed her hand. It was smaller than it should be. Her right index finger lacked the half-moon scar she got from a kitchen knife when she was thirteen. Her ring was missing from her left hand; the lack of which left an ache deep in her chest. She examined herself more and found she was shorter, less muscled, and softer. In short, she was someone else.  
                “Archie?” She called out tentatively. No sound answered her.  Her heart hammered in her chest. “This isn’t funny!” She walked over to the door only to find it had to handle on this side. “Great.” She mumbled as she looked around the room again. In the far corner, there was bundle of folded cloth. Upon further examination the cloth was actually a dress. It was blue and looked like it had escaped from a Renaissance Faire. “The one time I get body switched, I end up with a Renfaire geek stuck in someone’s basement.” She threw the dress on over the white shift she had woken up in, figuring ugly clothes were better than no clothes. “Just my luck.”

There had been a pair of black shoes, but even though they probably fit Cole’s new body she didn’t trust how small they looked. It was disquieting. She stormed back to the door and gave it a good whack with her fist.   
                “HEY!” She shouted. “Open this damn door!” She slammed her fist into the wood again. “Let me out!” On the third whack, there was a sound outside the door. Cole stepped back and watched as a man appeared. He was silhouetted from the light behind him; all she could tell was that he had curly hair, was shorter than she normally was, but taller than her current body, and ready for a fight. His body was taut like a cat ready to pounce. She adjusted her stance; her feet planted firmly apart, her arms defiantly across her chest, her head up and her eyes staring straight at the newcomer.

                “What’s the fucking deal, man?” She yelled, “Who the hell keeps a women locked up in a goddamn basement? And by the fucking way, this is not my body! Where is it and how the hell did I end up here?!” Her fear turned to anger.

                “Who are you?” His voice was strangely high-pitched and had a strange accent. He didn’t move a muscle.

                “The name’s Cole,” she uncrossed and recrossed her arms. “I assume you’re the one responsible for this…this event.”

                “No.” He took a step closer and Cole stood her ground. He peered at her as he started to circle her. She took a deep breath. He returned to stand in front of her. In the starlight she could see his skin glittered.

                “You’re not human…” Cole was starting to think this was one very real feeling dream. She pinched her arm.

                “How did you get here?”

                “Woke up here.” Cole pointed to the bed area. “Which isn’t as comfortable as it looks.” Her anger was ebbing away. The man in front of her wasn’t human. She wasn’t in her own body. The fear was gnawing at the back of her mind, waiting for her to acknowledge it so it could ravish the rest of her. “You gonna help me get back to where I’m supposed to be, then?”

                “Where is Belle?”

                “Who?”

                “The owner of the body you’re currently possessing.” His voice was a tight hiss now. Cole recognized the anger, but refused to be cowed.

                “Don’t know. But if I’m here in her body, than I guess she’s in mine.” She shrugged. It was the wrong move. In an instant she was being held by the throat against the stone wall.

                “How did you get here? Where is Belle? How did you do this?” He was yelling in her face. Instinct took over. She kneed the man in the crotch, and then brought her elbow down on his shoulder when he bent over. Almost as quickly their positions had reversed. Cole silently lamented the lack of strength this new body had compared to her own.

                “Do you think I know?!” She yelled at the man. “Do you think that I would willingly swap bodies with a stranger? Do you think I wanted to wake up in the basement of some weird, inhuman imp?” She gave him a shake, “I didn’t do this! I have no idea how this is even possible!”

A blast of force pushed her away from the man and the wall. She landed next to the door. She scrambled to her feet, took a fighter’s stance, putting her fists up. She was ready.

                “You’re either very brave or very stupid, Girl. Possibly both.” He put a hand to his throat where Cole had held him. “But you have a point. You didn’t do this.” His hand gestured to her. “I would rather not continue to fight you. I don’t want to damage the borrowed goods you wear.”

                “I said my name is Cole.” She hissed through gritted teeth. “And you attacked first.”

                “Hm.” The man snapped his fingers and disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

                “What the hell…” Cole walked forward to inspect the spot he had been standing.

                “Interesting.” She gave a small jump as the man’s voice sounded behind her. She turned and found him in the doorway.

                “How did you…” She was speechless. He had been here. Now he was there. “That’s impossible.”

                “No.” His grin was even creepier than he was, “That’s magic, Dearie.” His cackling laugh echoed off the walls as the door slammed shut.

                                                                                                                              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle's chapter is next! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. Life and work tend to get in the way. :) I'll try and get the next chapter up sooner.

The last thing she remembered was Rumplestiltskin locking her in her room that evening. He had even said goodnight.  She remembered thinking that he wasn’t such a horrible person. A small smile had been on her lips when she lay down.

 The field was full of those blue flowers that grew near her home. The breeze blew her hair back like a banner, it smelled like the sea. She smiled, she missed that smell. She wandered in the direction of the wind, her hands trailing in tall flowers. Belle hadn’t walked these fields since she was a child. She felt a laugh bubble up in her chest, she was happy. This had been a familiar dream, before the ogres came. But the black thunder clouds on the horizon hadn’t been in the original. The breeze suddenly became a torrent of wind, almost blowing her down. Belle crouched down amongst the flowers. A thunderclap boomed so loud she had to cover her ears.

The rain started down as a torrent. It was freezing and she was soaked through in moments. The thunder sounded again, louder than before. It rattled her bones and shook the ground. She cried out as lightning slashed the sky. Belle had never experienced a storm this bad. Another bolt of lightning lit up the black clouds and she screamed.

                “Cole!” Someone shook her. “Wake up! It’s just a dream.” Large hands gripped her shoulders. Her eyes flew opened and she screamed again. This was not Rumplestiltskin. She tried pushing him away but she couldn’t get much purchase.

                “Let me go!” She yelled. She struggled against his hold.

                “Cole,” his voice was low and soothing, “it’s me. Wake up. It’s just a dream.”

                “I don’t know you!” She kicked her feet, but they got tangled in the blanket that had been draped over her. “Let me go.” She was crying now, her voice almost a whisper. “I don’t know anything. I’m not valuable. He won’t come for me.”

                “Cole, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The man in front of her had soft grey eyes, and looked worried. His red hair was tousled like he just got out of bed. He wore a short, white tunic and long, loose trousers. “Are you okay?”

                “Who’s Cole?” She stopped struggling and leaned against the back of the soft couch. “I’m not who you think I am.” She turned her face away from the man in front of her. “And when Rumplestiltskin finds out you’ve kidnapped me, he’ll kill you.” Belle was surprised at the venom in her voice. “He doesn’t like it when people steal from him.” Tears were still falling down her cheeks.

                “What?” The man pulled away from her and sat down on a short table behind him. “Rumplestiltskin? The fairy tale guy?” He went to put his hand on her forehead, but she ducked him. “Cole…”

                “Look,” Belle look back at the man, “I’m not this Cole. I don’t know who that is. You’ve gone through a lot of trouble for nothing.”  The man looked even more worried now, his mouth twitched in a frown.

                “Okay…” he said slowly, “if you’re not Cole, who are you?”

                “Why should I tell you if you don’t know? Names have power.” Belle retorted.

                “Right.” He nodded. “That’s right, they do.” His fingers fiddled with the hem of his tunic. “Well, my name’s Archie.” He held out his hand as if for a hand shake.  Belle looked at his face; saw the sincerity there and then down at his hand. Despite waking up in a strange place her heart told her to trust this man. She shook his hand.

                “I’m Belle.” Something gleamed on her left hand, a plain silver band. “That’s not mine…” She took her hand back. Suddenly she was aware that her head lacked weight. Both hands flew to her head. “My hair!” She looked up at Archie. “Why did you cut it!”

                “I didn’t.” He looked even more worried. “Uh…” Belle’s hands explored her scalp, feeling the inches short hair.

                “What else did you do?!” Her voice rose in her panic and she looked down at her body. She was wearing strange things; a grey tunic like Archie’s and a pair of dark blue, skin tight trousers. They fit like should have been leather but they weren’t. “What am I wearing?!” She flushed, her cheeks burning. “How dare you undress me!”

                “Okay.” Archie put up his hands. “Stop right there. I did not dress or undress you, Belle.” He pointedly used her name to bring her back from her panic. “I did not cut your hair.” He took her hands in his. “Let me show you a mirror. Maybe it will help.”  He helped her stand, supported her as a sudden wave of dizziness passed. “Come on.”

Belle felt like a new born horse, all wobbly on legs too long. It was strange. She should have been at least a foot shorter than Archie, but when she stood, she was his height.

                “What’s going on, Archie?” Her voice was as shaky as her legs. They arrived at what looked like a bathing room. The white tiles gleamed in the bright, almost glaring light. She saw the mirror, saw the man called Archie’s reflection and someone else beside him. “What sorcery is this?!” She whispered, fear clouding her mind. She felt her knees go weak.

                “Sit down.” Archie had her sit on the side of a bathtub. He knelt down in front of her, and held her hands in his. “What’s wrong?”

                “The reflection…” Belle whispered, more tears leaked down her cheeks, “it’s not me.”

                “That’s because that’s how Cole looks.” Archie said slowly, watching Belle’s intently.

                “How did you do this?” She looked at him; her tear streaked face was painted with worry and anguish. “Why?”

                “Uh.” He looked dumbfounded for a moment. “I didn’t do this, Belle. I woke up because you were screaming in your sleep.”

                “This must be magic!” She stood up and gazed at the person in the mirror again. “It’s the only way…” She felt her face, ran a hand through the short blond hair, gazed at the small scar across bridge of her nose. “At least I have my eyes…”

                “What?” Archie had moved to sit on the edge of the tub while Belle examined Cole’s face. He looked up.

                “My eyes. They’ve always been blue, so I’m glad those are the same.” A small smiled spread across her new lips. “They say eyes are the windows to the soul, so if my eyes are the same, than my soul is intact.” She let out a breath like she had been holding it.

                “Hm.” Archie stood and left the room. He returned shortly after with a photograph of himself, Cole and a strikingly beautiful brunette with red streaks. “Cole has green eyes.”


	5. Chapter 5

He had known the instant the magic rippled through his web of defenses. It shouldn’t have gotten through, but somehow it had found a hole in the fence. What he hadn’t known instantly was what the magic did. He had mentally prowled around the perimeter of his grounds, walked through his halls, checked all the mirrors; nothing had jumped out as recently disturbed. It was then he heard Belle’s voice yelling.

In a cloud of purple magic he was outside the cell. Belle was behaving strangely, yelling and banging on the door.

                “Open this door!” He obliged and forced himself still. This is was what the magic had changed. Where Belle had once been, someone else stood there now. Her stance was defiant, strong, belonging to a warrior, not a court lady. With his magic he could almost see an outline of the intruder, but it was faint.

                “What’s the fucking deal, man?” It was Belle’s voice, but it wasn’t. “Who the hell keeps a woman locked up in a goddamn basement? And by the fucking way, this is not my body! Where is it and how the hell did I end up here?!”

Well, that was a development. The intruder was either playacting or was completely clueless.

                “Who are you?” He studied her fidgeting; a strong person wishing not to show weakness.

                “The name’s Cole; I assume you’re the one responsible for this…this event.” She had made a weak gesture with her hand indicating Belle’s body.

                “No.” He was trying to get a closer look at the magic’s signature around her. It was fading now, but it had been powerful. Blood magic he decided with a sniff. He circled her, scrutinizing the weaving he could see of the spell. Part of a binding here, part of a summoning there; whoever the caster was, they were an amateur and a menace.

                “You’re not human…” He heard her mumble faintly as she got a better look at him. He cocked his head to the side. He gave her credit for not letting the fear show. That was very like Belle.

                “How did you get here?” If the intruder could provide him with more insight, he’d be able to undo it that much faster.

                “Woke up here, and it’s not as comfortable as it looks.” He locked down a flush of shame. He knew that Belle didn’t deserve the dungeon. She’d been loyal to their deal since day one. He even had a room prepared for her, but hadn’t yet had the chance to present it. “You gonna help me get back?” The intruder asked.

                “Where is Belle?”

                “Who?”

                “The owner of the body you’re currently possessing.” He could feel his anger curling around the Dark One’s magic inside of him. Belle had been useful, dutiful, even friendly. Not to mention, his payment for a deal. No one stole from the Dark One.

                “Don’t know.” The intruder shrugged casually. “But I’m here in her body; I guess she’s in mine.”

He pounced like a cat. He had the intruder pinned against the back wall, his hand around the pale, exposed neck. The tendrils of his magic lapped invisibly around him and his prey.

                “How did you get here? Where is Belle? How did you do this?” He yelled, aware that he was entirely too emotional over this. He’d ponder that later. Right now, he wanted answers. Someone had used magic to infiltrate his defenses, to steal from him, to possibly hurt him.

In a barely remembered moment, the intruder reversed their positions. He was impressed, but the surprise only fueled his anger. Now she was yelling at him.

                “Do you think I know? Do you think I’d willing swap bodies with a stranger? Do you think I wanted to wake up in the basement of some weird, inhuman imp?!” She shook him. He decided that the intruder’s real body must be larger and stronger than Belle’s for her to attack him. “I didn’t do this! I have no idea how this is even possible.”

With a thought, he used his magic to push her away from him. He watched her roll with the blow and get to her feet quicker than most. She had her fists up in a warrior’s stance.

                “You’re either very brave or very stupid, Girl. Possibly both.” He was impressed by her tenacity; he felt this throat where she had gripped him. “But you have a point. You didn’t do this.” He gestured to the room and where she stood. “I would rather not continue to fight. I don’t want to damage the borrowed goods you wear.” He couldn’t resist a high pitched giggle.

                “I. Said. My. Name. Is. Cole.” The intruder hissed. “And you attacked first.”

With a snap of his fingers and another manic laugh, he moved behind the intruder.

                “What the hell…” He watched her inspect where he had once stood. Interesting; she was curious. Even beyond fear.

                “Interesting,” he voiced his thought and grinned as she jumped as she whirled around.

                “How did you…” She was looking back and forth between where he was now and where he had been. “That’s impossible.” Her voice quiet.

                “No.” He widened his grin, his teeth showing. “That’s magic, Dearie.” He cackled as he closed the cell door and transported himself to his turret.

XXXXX

 

He paced as he thought. The Dark One was gnawing at him, demanding vengeance at the intrusion and theft. Logic kept the demon away. He needed to know who had cast the spell and how, and importantly why? Had he been the intended target? Had Belle? Or maybe this Cole character? Given how brazen the woman had been, it was highly likely she had angered someone.

But something was amiss with that conclusion. Cole had been surprised at his displays of magic; as if she’d never been exposed to it. Sure there were some people in the Enchanted Forest who would go their whole lives without contact with a magical being; but her bewilderment was more than that. Even her speech pattern was strange. He shook his head and wandered over to his work table. He’d work on that mystery later.

He had smelled blood magic in the spell’s weaving. There were only a few people who still used it. It was volatile, unpredictable and prone to misbehaving. Unlike the magic the Dark One granted him or the spells inhaled from books, blood magic didn’t work on intent. You had to be specific. You had to be precise. Everything had be in order, a web carefully woven, strand by strand or else it would likely blow up in your face. This spell probably hadn’t worked the way the caster had wanted.

If he had been the original target, he reasoned, taking to pacing again, the Dark One would have reacted more violently than mere instant knowledge. Therefore, Belle had to be the target. Who would dare defy him like this? This didn’t have Regina’s mark; and Malicifent and he had a bit of an accord these days. That left the Sea Witch and…He snapped his fingers and giggled triumphantly.

The Brotherhood of Uthra! They were a meddlesome, hypocritical bunch. Some time ago, a group of religious monks got it into their heads that all magic was evil; even the fairies. Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t disagree with them on that point. They used blood magic, insisting it was a purer form because it came from their beings. Stuff and nonsense.

But all made sense now. That stupid father of Belle’s had tried to weasel his daughter back. A shadow of a grin ghosted on his lips. The fool, he should have learned the first time.

                “All magic comes with a price.” He cackled to himself as he went to spy on Baron Maurice.


End file.
